


Dancing in the Flames

by Slice_of_Apple



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: A tiny bit of smut, Actor Eren Yeager, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comfort/Angst, Denial of Feelings, Dyslexic Eren, Eren is a hot head what's new, Feelings, Fluffiness, Idiots in Love, M/M, Romance, Sweet, Tenderness, it's still all about the romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26023267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slice_of_Apple/pseuds/Slice_of_Apple
Summary: Jean escapes from Eren's orbit- or does he?
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager
Comments: 12
Kudos: 80





	Dancing in the Flames

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Your Touch Is What I Need](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3867265) by [Freekish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freekish/pseuds/Freekish). 



Eren’s a live wire, he’s a living flame. He burns brightly, incandescently, sucking up all the oxygen wherever he goes. One day, Jean wakes up and realizes that he’s like all the other boys and girls orbiting around Eren. They’re all waiting in the suffocating darkness, jostling with each other, eagerly lapping up any sparks that Eren lets off as he whirls past. For the first time since he can remember, Jean thinks maybe it’s time he carved out his own space. Maybe someplace where he can actually breathe.

If he had any courage, he would tell them; specifically, he would tell Eren. But he doesn’t. Instead, he drifts away. He stops meeting up with the group. He skips the dinners, the drinks, the movie nights. He even finds a new apartment. Why should he live near Eren and his acting jobs, when he can move closer to the park, closer to his own work? He doesn’t even tell them about his new place. His texts and phone calls slowly dry up.

Jean throws himself into his job. He runs in the park every morning. He experiments with different coffee combinations. He goes on a blind date set up by someone from work. The date itself isn’t so great, but they hit a dance club, Axis. Jean can’t believe what it’s like to dance in the club. Jean has never really been much of a dancer; at college parties, he was always one of the ones standing on the sidelines, clutching a beer like it was a shield. But now he moves through the hot, humid atmosphere, and it’s like he’s found a second home. He loves the jungle smell of sweat and smoke; the strobe lights blinking on and off, offering live action snapshots; the liquid dripping down the walls like sap; most of all, he loves the heady beat of the music hammering through his body.

He returns to Axis the next week, and soon it’s a thing; he goes every Friday night. He always arrives alone, but sometimes he leaves with a stranger, and he likes that too: the crash of bodies, the release. He never leaves with the same person. He never keeps anyone’s number. Jean’s not ready to settle into anyone else’s trajectory; he likes this freedom. It’s taken a helluva lot of rocket fuel to launch himself out of Eren’s orbit, but Jean is finally loose, freewheeling through space.

Eren struggled in school. With his dyslexia, he had to work three times as hard as anyone else just to get by. When a counselor recommended drama as a better channel for his “energy,” (read: constant fistfights), it was like he had been dying of thirst all his life and had jumped into an endless pool of water. He threw himself into it, face first, eyes wide open, full speed ahead.

Jean doesn’t remember how it first started, him helping Eren go through his scripts. Now, looking back, he can’t even count how many times he sat with Eren, the two of them on opposite ends of Eren’s basement couch, feet tangled together. The initial run-through was always a struggle, like dragging heavy chains through a desert. But after that first, backbreaking read with Jean, Eren could invariably do his lines, no problem.

There was one night when Eren was so frustrated with his own handicap that he slammed his fist into the wall. Jean grabbed Eren, held him, kissed his red knuckles, kissed _him_. He can still remember the achingly sweet taste in his mouth, Eren shivering under his touch. And the next day, when Jean had come to Eren with shy, almost trembling, excitement, Eren had acted like nothing had happened. Jean had thought, _so that’s how it’s going to be_. He responded in kind, closed that part of himself off, humbly grateful for whatever part of Eren he _could_ have.

He kept it up, mutely following Eren through the rest of high school, on to college. After college, he stayed in this fucking city because of Eren. The whole group did, one way or another, although they each had their own excuses for doing so. In retrospect, it’s all been one, long, steady chase after Eren, while Eren kept slipping further away. Slowly, over time, Eren stopped needing Jean so much. There were other people to help him. Hell, now he can hire someone to read scripts with him. 

When Eren’s newest play comes out, Jean sees the ads, the posters lining the city walls. Eren’s not the star, not by a long shot, but he dominates the image. Who the fuck wouldn’t focus on Eren’s obscenely gorgeous face? His burnished green eyes stare wickedly out, ready to ensnare a whole new slew of admirers.

The Friday after he first sees the ads, Jean practically runs to Axis. And if he goes home that night with someone with shaggy brown hair who is shorter than him, he chalks it up to a celebration of Eren’s success, a toast to Eren, in a way. From a safe distance.

“Jean!” calls a voice.

“Armin,” says Jean, happy to see his friend. He’s been missing Armin, been thinking of calling him. He likes Armin: his quiet strength, his intelligence, his dry humor.

“It’s been ages. How are you?”

“Good, man, I’ve been good.”

“We’ve missed you,” says Armin simply.

Jean ignores the _we_ , and focuses on the person in front of him. “I’ve missed you, too, Armin,” says Jean. “Let’s hang out sometime soon, yeah?”

“That would be great,” says Armin sincerely. “How about brunch on Saturday?”

Turns out Armin is taking a weekend woodworking class, because he’s always wanted to build things, who knew? Jean’s been spending his Saturdays catching up with work, so it’s the perfect incentive for him to get his day going. It’s pleasant and easy, and Jean enjoys the time together. They talk about Armin’s work; Jean’s work; beautiful wood furniture, random shit. While Eren’s name may be conspicuously absent, Jean sure as hell isn’t going to bring it up. 

On the third Saturday brunch, Armin finally asks, “How come you stopped coming out with us?”

“I got busy,” says Jean.

But Armin knows that’s not it, pushes him. “Really?”  
“I… needed some space,” mumbles Jean.

“I can see that. You seem great these days. More relaxed. Less tense.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” Jean grins. “I go to Axis on Friday nights.”

“You do?” asks Armin, surprised. “I never pegged you as a club guy.”

“I know!” says Jean. “Me neither. But I guess you learn something new every day, and I’ve learned that I love to dance.” He knows that he has a foolish grin on his face, but he can’t help himself. It’s the truth, after all.

Armin stares at him curiously. “That’s fantastic. I should probably give it a try.” He’s joking, but maybe only half-joking, and Jean jumps on it. He wants to share this new experience of dancing with his friend. “You definitely should. Come out with me on Friday. I usually get there around 10:30.”

Jean is dancing to the thumping rhythm, his eyes closed. Armin didn’t show up, which is a disappointment. On the plus side, there’s a guy in a tank top who’s been giving him steamy looks all night. While the music moves through Jean, he’s thinking about what it will be like to have those smoky eyes looking up at him from between his legs. He laughs at himself, wondering when he got to be so free and easy, but a smile lingers on his face; it’s all part of this new current he’s riding. When the tap on his shoulder comes, he turns around, smile widening, ready to slink into the guy’s arms.

Instead, he comes face to face with Eren.

All the wonderful, loose energy instantly drains out of Jean. He’s standing in the middle of a heaving mass of bodies, and he’s like a troll faced with the morning sun, turning to stone.

_It’s not fair!_ he thinks desperately. He’s escaped from Eren. Why did Eren have to come here, to invade Jean’s sanctuary? He spins around and squeezes his way out of the dance floor. He doesn’t care that Eren is calling out after him, “Jean, wait! Jean!”

Jean’s fast; he’s got a lot to lose, after all. He’s slithered to the coat check, he’s got his stuff, he’s out the door, he’s making his way down the street. Eren doesn’t know where Jean lives anymore. Jean is safe.

At brunch the next day, he glares at Armin. “I told you I needed space, dammit!”

Armin has the grace to look abashed. “You didn’t say that you needed space from Eren.”

Jean shoots daggers at Armin. He shouldn’t have to say it, Armin’s no fool, but he does anyway. “ _Of course_ it was from Eren.”

“Then you should do him the courtesy of telling him that yourself. He misses you.”

At these words, Jean’s telltale heart skips a beat. _No_! he shrieks to himself. _I won’t go back. Back to slowly suffocating. Waiting for something that will never happen_.

“He’s driving the rest of us crazy, to be honest. I didn’t mean to tell him about the dancing, it just came out. He was already pissed that you and I have brunch together without him, and that I’ve told him he can’t join us.”

The next Friday, Jean’s not sure what he should do. If he goes to Axis, will Eren be there? No. Eren wouldn’t dare.

Apparently, he would dare. Tenacity is Eren’s middle name, after all. When Jean arrives, Eren is sitting in a dim corner of the bar by himself, nursing a drink. He’s facing the entrance, watching everyone who comes in. His eyes alight on Jean as soon as Jean emerges from the stairwell. 

_Fuck_! Jean’s caught. He knows he’s not going to get out of this situation without at least talking to Single-Minded, Relentless Bastard. He bites the bullet and walks straight up to Eren. He drags Eren towards the relative quiet of the back hall, past the bathrooms.

“What are you doing here?” he asks angrily.

“I came to talk to you,” says Eren.

Jean feels shaken up by his presence, his words.

“It’s not the best place to talk,” says Jean over the music, which is still kind of loud, even in this back hallway.

“Is that my fault? You’ve disappeared from everywhere else. I miss you,” Eren sounds hurt.

Jean can feel the vacuum of Eren pulling him in. He can feel himself turning back into ash, to nothing, shriveling up into a particle in the Black Hole of Eren. Suddenly, he doesn’t want to talk anymore. He wants to leave. He swivels on his heel.

He hasn’t gone two steps when Eren grabs his arm and whirls him around. He pushes Jean into the wall. He plants his hands on either side of Jean’s shoulders. His face is right up in Jean’s, it’s coming closer. Eren tips his head to the side so their noses don’t bump.

“No!” Jean says, twisting away. But it’s too late. Eren’s mouth is on his, his hands are on Jean’s hips, he’s everywhere. Jean’s body betrays him. He holds Eren greedily to him, kisses him. He runs his hands over the length of Eren’s torso, across his face, through his hair. The heat is intoxicating. He’s burning up. He’s falling back into Eren’s atmosphere. All he has to do is lean in.

“No!” he says, panting. Eren ignores him, kisses Jean’s neck. Jean shoves Eren’s chest. “I said, _No_!“.

Eren’s eyes are glittering. “You want me,” he hisses. “I know you do.”

“Doesn’t matter,” says Jean hoarsely. He pushes Eren away. He runs.

He doesn’t go back to Axis. It’s one more thing to be angry at Eren about.

Eren’s play is a hit. It seems like everywhere Jean goes, there’s Eren’s face. On billboards, in the news. He can’t fucking get away.

Eren eventually shows up at Jean’s new apartment. Jean’s honestly not that surprised; after all, he’s in the phone book. He thinks about pretending he’s not home, but the lights are on, he’s got music playing, and all at once it seems too childish for words. He opens the door, and Eren stomps in.

Eren looks both angry and hurt. It’s not a good combination. It’s the same mixture that sparked so many fights, back in school.

“Why do you keep running away from me?” he says, his voice raised. “I just want to talk.”  
“Give me a break, Eren, you never just want to talk. Listen to yourself. You’re already shouting.”

“What happened? Why do you hate me now?”

Jean sighs. He rubs the back of his neck. He looks over and is surprised to see Eren smiling.

“What?” he asks, irritated.

“The way you look when you’re annoyed,” says Eren softly. “I’ve missed that.”

Jeez. Leave it to Eren to disarm him with a few words. “I don’t hate you, Eren,” he says. He’s not sure how to go on. What should he say? How does he feel? It’s all so mixed up, he doesn’t even know himself. “I care about you. A lot.” From the corner of his eye, he sees Eren start up hopefully. “It’s just…” The words tumble out, and once he gets going, they’re not stopping. “You’re too much for me sometimes, Eren. You’re like a fucking comet, you know that, right? And, I felt like I was waiting in the wings, I don’t know, trying to catch the little bits of scraps you let off. Like all your other fucking groupies. I needed my own space. So I could breathe. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

There is a long silence. Jean lets it stretch. There was a lot there, and it’s taking him a moment to sift through it himself; Eren probably needs more time.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” Eren finally says. His voice isn’t angry anymore. It’s quiet, subdued. “That’s not how I see you. That you’re there to collect _scraps_ from me.” He grimaces, like the words disturb him. “You’ve always been there. Like a rock.”

  
Jean makes a noise, but Eren holds his hand up.

“Not like a rock for me to lean against, although it’s true that I’ve leaned on you. A lot. I mean like a fucking mountain: solid; spectacular; like a Natural Wonder.” Jean snorts. It’s so cheesy and hyperbolic. “That’s what you are: a fucking Natural Wonder of the World.”

Jean can’t stifle a small giggle. It’s so ridiculously over the top- so _Eren_. But Eren plows ahead, unembarrassed; he even picks up steam.

“You’ve always been special to me. I thought you knew that. It's been hard, not being able to see you. I’ve missed so many things about you. Your smile. The way you snort in that sarcastic way. Your angry scowl. The way you've always been so patient when you read with me.” Oh, shit. Now Eren has fully launched into a List of Things He Likes About Jean.

“Okay, okay,” says Jean, blushing. “I get it.”

But Eren isn’t done. “I’ve missed your body. And I’ve especially missed your sexy hair.” He grins wolfishly.

The giggles are gone, and anger rises up in Jean again. How dare Eren say things like that? How dare he play with Jean in that way? “That’s not funny,” he says bitterly.

“I wasn’t saying it to be funny,” Eren answers quietly. “It’s the truth. I’ve been attracted to you for a long time.”

“Why did you act like it didn't happen? That night?” It spills out of Jean, before he can stop it. He didn’t realize that long-ago hurt was still so close to the surface. It’s humiliating, how raw he sounds.

  
It’s Eren’s turn to sigh. “Because I was an idiot,” he says finally. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. I was kind of lost back then. Scared. Afraid of opening up, maybe, I don’t know. It was a dick move. I’m sorry.” He rubs his eyes tiredly. “And then, as time went on, it was too hard to backtrack, undo the silence.” 

Jean is surprised by both the apology and the admission. There are still some parts of Eren that are unknown to him, after all.

“If you can forgive me, I’d really like it if I could be part of your life - as a friend, I mean,” Eren continues. “It doesn’t have to be anything else if you don’t want it to be. I’ve really missed you.”

“So you keep saying,” Jean says dryly. Then he relents, adding softly, “I’ve missed you, too.” But even though he feels tender towards this Eren, who is vulnerable in ways Jean hasn’t previously known, he also feels that he owes it to himself to be clear. “But I don’t want to get lost in you anymore. I need to have my own life too, to do things that I like.”

“Things like what?” asks Eren, as though he really wants to know. Jean realizes that part of his getting lost has been his fault, too. That he’s always been too willing to let Eren take over, too willing to take a back seat in his own life. 

“Well, like the club,” he says, because it’s the first thing that comes to his mind.

“I noticed,” says Eren, grinning. “You’re pretty hot on the dance floor. Maybe that’s why I came on so hard in there,” he adds apologetically, ducking his head. “Although I think it was more that I was trying to pin you down. Grab a hold of you before you disappeared again.” It’s almost like Eren is trying to figure it out himself as he’s talking. He shakes his head. “Anyway, would it be okay if I met you at Axis this Friday night? Around 11:30, after my show?”

Jean rolls this idea around in his head. He surprises himself by thinking that, yeah, that might be okay. Since Eren asked first. “Sure,” he says.

Eren leaves shortly after that. As usual, he’s gotten what he came for. But somehow, Jean doesn’t mind so much. Maybe it’ll be fun, even. 

It _is_ fun. It’s been fantastic dancing alone. But dancing with Eren is another thing entirely. Eren’s a bright spark, bouncing around him. It’s exciting to look at him, catch him in the strobe light: his smile; his laughing face; or his head tipped back, eyes closed, completely immersed in the music. Every once in awhile, he throws a laughing wink in Jean’s direction; or, when he thinks Jean isn’t looking, a smoldering glance through his hair. It’s like Eren is orbiting around Jean now, putting Jean in the spotlight. The music pounds through Jean’s body, drills into his skull, with the extra Eren spark fizzing in his bloodstream.

As they leave the club, Eren stuffs his hand in Jean’s back pocket, and they walk out like that, loosely attached.

They end up back at Eren’s place. Jean feels strange, entering Eren’s apartment again. Eren brings him some water, leads him to a new, fancier couch.

Jean plops down, leans back against the cushions After the deafeningly loud music in the club, the silence seems to ring in his ears. The high from dancing has waned, and he feels grubby and worn out. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do, to come here. It’s awkward. But then Eren smiles easily, and says, “That was fun.”

“Yeah,” says Jean. He grins. “You’ve got some smooth moves yourself.” Eren laughs lightly. It reminds Jean so much of all the times they spent in high school, lounging around together, that he starts to feel more comfortable.

“D’you want to watch a movie?” asks Eren.

  
“Okay,” says Jean. He does, actually. The couch is cozy, and he wasn't lying when he said that he had been missing Eren, too. Eren puts a cushion in the middle of the couch, so he can rest his head on it, and Jean splays out on the other side. If this is what it means to hang with Eren now, he thinks he kind of likes it.

About twenty minutes in, Eren pauses the movie. He’s still looking at the screen, not at Jean. But he clears his throat and says, in a barely audible voice, “If you were willing to.. uh… give.. _this_ … uh… _us,”_ he indicates the two of them with his hand, “a try, for real, I… uh… I’d like that.”

Jean’s heart melts. He is overflowing with affection for the wild, tender boy he’s been in love with for years.

“I am,” he says gruffly. “Willing.”

“You are?” asks Eren, surprised into turning his head. He’s staring straight into Jean’s eyes.

Jean shakes his head at Eren’s cluelessness. How could he think that Jean would want anything else? Jean stretches forward so his lips barely brush against Eren’s. He could swear there’s a small spark. For a moment, Eren doesn’t move. Then his hands swing up into Jean’s hair. They kiss again, deeper, more urgently. Jean is delighted to find that Eren has the same achingly sweet taste that he had all those years ago. When they break apart, both of them are breathing hard, and Eren’s eyes are dark, heavy.

Eren scrambles to his feet, pulling Jean up flush against him. “Jean,” he breathes. He can’t keep his hands out of Jean’s hair. "So beautiful," Eren murmurs. Still kissing, clenched together, they stumble into the bedroom. Jean falls laughingly onto the bed, and Eren sprawls out lengthwise on top of him. When Jean comes with a thunderous moan into his pants, like a fucking teenager, just from lying beneath Eren, Eren’s hot tongue flicking into his mouth, he can’t even be bothered to be embarrassed. Not even when he sees Eren’s smug smile.

“Shut the fuck up,” he murmurs lazily, even though Eren hasn’t spoken. He moves his hand down between Eren’s legs. _Not so smug now_ , he thinks, as Eren gasps, and rolls his hips.

Later, when they’re naked and tangled up in Eren’s sheets, Jean’s fingers tracing aimless patterns on Eren's impossibly silky skin, Jean realizes that he’s having no trouble breathing, despite this close proximity to Eren. Now that he’s a Natural Wonder of the World, he thinks, grinning, he must be immune to the effects of low oxygen tension. Eren, feeling the grin against his shoulder, gives a pleased grunt. “Love you,” he murmurs sleepily into Jean’s hair.

“I love you, too,” Jean whispers back. Because it’s true.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the fantastic post Your Touch is What I Need (see link) - highly recommended if you haven't already seen it.


End file.
